


Gunslinger

by profligate



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cannibalism, F/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profligate/pseuds/profligate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mojave watches warily as a Courier from New Reno wreaks havoc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Profanity and Opportunism

**Author's Note:**

> Transcribed from my ff.net account.

Hawkins flicked her cigarette idly, gazing up at the giant reptile.

Dinky, it's name was.

Reaching up to rub at the thin white scar adorning her forehead, the Courier tossed the butt to the ground and trudged forward to the little office of what looked to be a motel.

 _Damn well better be someone in there. Don't fancy gettin' eaten by a Deathclaw 'n the middle of the night._ She thought grumpily.

As she made her way to the office there was only her footsteps, the rest of Novac silent in the night, with the occasional grunt from the nearby brahmin.

Standing before the door, Hawkins paused to fuss over her hair. Doc Mitchell had cropped the curly auburn mass to just below her ears, the rest of it having been matted with blood, dirt and other fluids that'd leaked out of her head. Apparently being shot in the head was quite messy. Bloodshot blue eyes and slightly sunburned nose, she had no doubt she was a sore sight indeed.

 _"I see someone had a bad run in with the wasteland. My dear, you look absolutely wretched."_ The courier recalled the words from that dog-headed asshat from Nipton. Smirk on his face the entire time, he had ignored her feral glare and continued on his way.

_I don't care how smooth his voice is, guy's a prick. Spooky one, too._

Hawkins sighed and entered the office, pushing up the sleeves of her dirt stained pink hooded sweatshirt.

"Well hello there!"

The young woman sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

 

After finally escaping Jeannie-May, the courier had coughed up the ridiculous amount of caps to rent the tiny hovel of a room. Busting through the door, she immediately kicked off her boots and tossed her machete and .10 mm on the couch, leaving her .44 magnum on the coffee table beside the bed.

 _Can't ever be too careful_. Hawkins thought, plopping on the bed.

Stifling a yawn, she scooped up the teddy bear next to her, lay her head down on the musty pillow and fell into a deep sleep.

Later that morning....

"You want me to do what now?" Hawkins ground out.

Manny looked instantly uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well, uh, I can't exactly go myself. There's gotta be someone here to keep watch; Boone's the only other one."

The short woman clenched her fists, feeling the irrational urge to slam Manny's face against Dinky's tail.

_That'd be mean. Poor Dinky hasn't done anything to me._

Taking a deep breath, she crossed her arms. "That's very slippery of you, Mr. Vargas. You sure you ain't still a Kahn?" she bit, tone even.

The ex-soldier grit his teeth, eye twitching. "Look, it's not like I can just-"

"Can't just what? You expect me to do this myself? Listen here you rat bastard-" the courier hissed, stepping forward.

"You mind moving?" A voice cut them off.

The two turned sharply. A man stood there, donning sunglasses and a red beret similar to Manny's. His face was stony.

"What?" The two snarled simultaneously, before turning to glare at each other.

"Would you move? I need to get up there." his voice was steely this time, barring no room for argument.

Manny and Hawkins stepped aside, Manny looking slightly sheepish.

"Sorry man, I-" The sharp slam of the gift shop door cut him off.

It was silent for a moment.

"...the fuck was that?" the courier asked.

"That's Boone. He's the night sniper." Manny replied tiredly , rubbing his eyes.

Hawkins snorted, turning and stomping back to the stairs.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, rat-bastard." She slammed her door.

Manny sighed.

 

* * *

 

 

Hawkins bit her lip, eyeing the sniper in front of her warily.

"Pardon...don't think I caught that. You want me..to...what?"

Boone sighed audibly, sounding a bit exasperated.

"Snoop around a bit, find the one that sold out my wife. Then bring 'em to the front of the Dinosaur and put on the beret. Simple."

There was a beat of silence.

"You're all a bunch of opportunistic assholes, you know that?"

She stomped down the stairs before he could reply, not bothering to close the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Later, as she came back up the stairs, he had to open the door for her. As she stumbled into Dinky's mouth, Boone saw why.

Her hands were soaked in blood and other matter, from dragging Jeannie-May into the bushes. Blood splattered her sunburned cheek, the beret sitting on her head lopsidedly.

Boone stared at her. She glared right back.

"You failed to mention you'd be exploding her head. Right. Next. To. Me." She hissed, gesturing wildly to her blood stained attire.

He shrugged and deftly plucked the beret from her head, settling it snugly back onto his own.

"Sorry." He said simply.

Hawkins sighed and sagged against the door, tired. Helping Nightkin, shipping off delusional Ghouls and sniffing out bitchy old hags who sold people, had Hawkins dog tired.

She looked up, slightly groggy. "What'll you do now?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I dunno. Wander like you, I guess."

She surprised herself. "Come with me, why don'tcha."

Boone's head snapped up, and he stared at her intently for a moment, searching for any agenda she might be hiding. Finding none, he sighed.

"Fine, but this won't end well."

Hawkins smiled grimly. "Well look at that. I've got a buddy with a death wish. Ain't that platinum."

And promptly fainted.

Boone sighed again, rubbing his forehead, wondering what he'd gotten into.


	2. The devil's in the details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boone and Hawkins continue their trek across the Mojave.

Footsteps crunched behind her as she slipped through Boulder City's door. Hawkins sighed and rolled her eyes, lighting a cigarette as she walked through the rubble. Boone had refused to let her enter the city alone. For her safety, he said, but privately she wondered if it wasn't because Khans were involved.

_"Manny and Boone have a history it seems,"_ she thought, humming absently as she passed the NCR soldiers hunkered on the ground.

"This is a shit idea, you know that."

Bloodshot eyes rolled. That voice was cold as steel, anger boiling below the surface; he didn't want to be here.

"Y'didn't have to come in here. In fact," she said conversationally, "I specifically remember asking you to wait outside."

There was a beat of silence.

"Fine."

Hawkins snickered, ignoring the holes he drilled into her skull.

 

* * *

 

Hawkins considered the Khan behind the counter. "So...Jessup, was it? Where's Benny, _Jessup_? Last I saw, you two were old pals." she spat, cigarette crushed beneath her boot.

The other Khans looked to their leader nervously; the man looked quiet for a moment but cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"He skipped out man, the damn snake. Left with that chip, and our money."

Boone snorted under his breath but Hawkins ignored him, eyes pinned behind the counter.

"To Vegas, I'm assuming." Her voice was quiet and she toyed with the soft package of her ubiquitous cigarettes. Boone wondered to himself if she wasn't addicted.

Jessup nodded and he dug around in his pocket. "You got it babe. Left this too. Figure you might want it."

A gleam of silver flew through the air and Boone snatched it, holding it up for Hawkins to examine. She grinned as he lit her a new cigarette and winced minutely at the gleam of her teeth.

The Courier leaned back, smoke billowing from her lips. Jessup gulped audibly.

"Now, Jessup, baby, about them NCR outside."

 

* * *

 

"Gotta admit, that was pretty smooth."

The Courier smiled lazily. "All in a day's work, Boone-buddy."

He snorted. "We're in the middle of the Mojave, the dead of night. Now is not the time to get cocky."

Whilst she begrudgingly agreed, Hawkins couldn't resist rolling her eyes; still, she warily cast an eye about their small camp, backed up against a towering cliff and scoffed. "I highly doubt that anything is going to have enough motivation to attack us now, Boone."

With that, she reached into her bag and pulled a dark piece of dried meat out of a cloth covering, immediately shoving it into her mouth. Boone watched this wretched display of manners before coughing quietly.

Nothing.

Another cough.

She looked up, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

"What're you eating?"

Hawkins stared at him silently and the hardened NCR sniper shifted uncomfortably. Had he said something? It was a normal enough question, wasn't it? The silence stretched for a moment more before the gunslinger smiled slyly.

"Oh, nothing you'd like, I'm sure."

He let it drop.

 

* * *

  

They were about two miles outside New Vegas, a gang of Fiends littering the ground around them. Hawkins flicked a cigarette with a sigh and put it out in the dirt under her foot. Much to their chagrin the sun was merciless, beating down on them as sweat rolled down their necks and soaked their clothes.

It was uncomfortable to say the least. Especially when they'd run out of water earlier that morning. As tired as they were in the aftermath, the thirst was worse and it wasn't long before Boone could feel the scratch in his throat with every breath he took.

Hawkins stood suddenly, eyeing the abandoned building not twenty feet away.

"I'm gonna go check it out, see if there's anythin' worth caps in there. Stay here 'n loot these bastards, Boone?" she asked, clearing her throat loudly.

The sniper looked at her steadily behind his glasses for a moment, before nodding. "Be careful."

A lazy salute and she was gone. Nearly skipping through the open doorway, he noted with a snort.

Boone waited five minutes before following quietly.

Her bloody cleaver was thrown carelessly to the side. From what he could see, her hands were soaked in blood, a small pool forming under the body in front of her.

_Crunch._

Boone's eyes widened, breath leaving him instantly.

_Groan._

He gulped, his mouth dry.

_Sigh._

The rifle tubled from his hands with a dull thunk, its owner frozen at the spot. The courier stilled and dropped a small hunting knife as she turned. Her eyes were calm, face relaxed. A fleck of blood had landed on her cheek bone.

The two stared at each other.

Boone's mind raced. He'd seen a lot of crazy shit in the NCR. Men ripped apart by dogs. Heads ripped off by drugged up Fiends. But this...he didn't understand why she didn't look away. Look ashamed or bothered that she'd been caught. It looked like she was waiting.

So he reached out, mind screaming at him, _you idiot_ , back away, run, shoot, she's sick, _you're sick!_

"Need a hand?"

Hawkins smiled with her teeth and slid her fingers into his palm. He tightened his grip as the blood made it slick and tugged her to her feet. She held a blood soaked package in the other hand and he had no doubt what it was she'd been eating the other day.

Neither said another word as she bent down and picked up his rifle, handing it to him, face blank.

"Let's go." Hawkins brushed past him, and they exited the building, pausing to pick up their packs. They barely made it ten steps before he grabbed her arm, whirling her around.

Her eyes were wide as he licked his thumb and reached forward, brushing the blood off her cheek. He stared at her impassively from behind the sunglasses.

"Now we're ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing old writing is not fun.


	3. Cause it's witchcraft...

_Such a chickenshit._

Hawkins gripped her .44 tightly, firing yet another round into the deathclaw's skull. The thing had been dead for about ten minutes.

She could feel Boone watching her as he set up camp, the tingling on her neck growing in intensity. Shakily, she reached into her pocket and tugged out a cigarette. Nothing like a good smoke to calm her nerves.

Only not this time.

"Goddammit," She cursed, throwing the barely smoked cigarette to the ground, crushing it with her boot.

_Such a waste,_ she thought bitterly, the gun still warm in her hand.

Hawkin's fingers trembled as she attempted to reload the rickety weapon, dropping rounds almost as soon as she picked them up. Her eyes burned.

They'd been within a stone's throw of the Freeside entrance when panic had settled low in her stomach. Hysteria crippled her like it hadn't in years, pushing her to retreat back to the outskirts. Her calm demeanor had fled, and in it's place was this trembling, shaky creature that the hardened Courier refused to acknowledge.

Deathly quiet, she settled down on her bedroll and fell quickly into a fitful sleep. Neon lights and checkerboard streets plagued her dreams, making her groan softly under her breath and sigh.

Boone looked on silently.

 

* * *

 

The radscorpion dropped with a thunk, not three feet from her, Hawkins frozen, shotgun still at her side. She chewed her lip thoughtfully as she stared at the beast, eyes misted over. Grinding his teeth, her sniper companion stomped his way over to her, intent on dragging her thoughts back to Earth.

The damn thing had it's stinger not a foot away from her face when he'd shot it. He doubted she noticed.

Boone's hand was heavy as it landed on her shoulder, whipping her around violently.

"What the hell was that? Are you  _trying_  to get yourself killed?" he hissed, towering over her.

The courier stared up at him impassively, her face calm. But only on the surface. Close to her face as he was, Boone could see that tiny twitch in her nose and the flash of sharp teeth behind pale lips. He sighed, running a hand down his face.

"Why'd we skip out on Freeside." It was less of a question, more of a command.

Looking down, Hawkins fiddled with her ratty scarf for a moment, thinking.

"I'm not ready." she said simply and tilted her head up at him, gray eyes meeting his steadily.

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut when she held up a slender, calloused hand.

"But I will be. Soon. I gotta do somethin' first though."

Out came the cigarette, lit with steady fingers this time. Boone watched her carefully, grabbing her pack as she set down to loot the dead radscorpion of its precious stinger.

They were going to Primm, after all.

 

* * *

 

_Do I disgust him?_  Hawkins thought idly, watching her sleeping companion over the small campfire they'd set up.

She couldn't blame him really. Having broken one of the most instinctual taboos in human nature, there was bound to be at least a bit of aversion in there.

But she never saw it.

Not once since they ( _she_ ) had run from Vegas, did he question her about her eating habits. Secretly, she was glad for it.

_It'd hurt, I think_. Hawkins knew she'd never be able to stand hatred for her in those brown eyes. Witty bravado and Vegas slang aside, she was a simple girl. Woman wasn't the right word, never one she'd use in reference to herself. Barely an adult, at twenty years, and she didn't feel like one.

A girl with a very large cache of guns, at least.

Casting another glance at Boone, she wondered what he'd think if he knew about the small group of Legionaries not three miles away.

What he'd think of her letting them pass.

 

* * *

 

"No."

Hawkins huffed, her solemn mood waning with every hour scuttling about the Mojave.

"But-"

"I said, no."

"I don't see why you're bein' so difficult. It's just some casserole."

The blank look he sent her over his sunglasses told Hawkins that he was not impressed.

Sighing, the courier sent Ruby Nash a suffering look, her hair bouncing with the motion. The elderly woman chuckled and continued cooking, pointing a fork at Boone.

"You oughta count your lucky stars boy. This girl's a saint 'n a half with a campfire. Can whip up damn near anythin'." she chuckled again, turning back to her stove, missing the sharp look Boone shot at her.

He raised an eyebrow at a sheepish courier.

_I'll bet_ , he thought, snorting incredulously.

Hawkins shot him a dirty look and swung her legs impatiently, rocking the stool she sat on. Humming quietly to herself, she went about poking through the front of the room, nudging the heap of scraps on the counter.

"Hey Ruby? What's this pile a' junk?" She shouted over the pip-boy radio, ignoring Boone's unamused glance.

Ruby raised her head. "Hm. Oh, that? Sweetheart, that's just an ole junked out eyebot. Some fella dropped it off, a while back. Might wanna ask Johnson about it. He mentioned somethin' about fixin it up."

Hawkins tilted her head curiously, lighter twirling through her fingers as she hummed.

"Eyebot, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How're we doin so far?


	4. Blades and Fists

Hawkins wiped the wet rag vigorously down the cleaver, eyes unfocused as she went about her task. Boone slept silently across the fire, the little eyebot she'd repaired hovering over them watchfully.

Guilt had been weighing down on her every since that group of legionaries had crept through. She'd let them pass, only a mile away at their closest, leaving her companion to sleep on the hard ground.

He'd shoot her if he ever found out.

She didn't blame him, really. With all the shit he'd gone through, Hawkins was in no position to tell him to stay passive. To be cool, icy. Like she was.

The asshole from Nipton floated through her thoughts and the courier snorted. His dog-head mask had amused her to no end; his voice though, that bothered her. The smooth, almost silky quality of it drew up memories she couldn't quite grasp, and didn't particularly care to.

A side effect of a fucking bullet to the head.

There were pieces missing from before, but for the most part, she remembered everything. The bright lights and haze of Reno, the lazy trek up to New Vegas, and every gun she'd ever bought.

But not that smooth voice, or the man who held it.

 

* * *

 

 

Boone steadily ignored the tingling on the back of his neck, casting an eye at their surroundings. She was staring at him.

Again.

It'd started the night before last, when he'd taken first watch. Hawkins had lay there for nearly an hour, sneaking glances at him before dozing off into a fitful sleep.

Something heavy had made it's bed in her eyes, but he couldn't make sense of what it was. He sighed quietly.

It was going to be a long trip up to the The Strip, if she kept it up, not talking like some kind of damn ghost. Hawkins hadn't made a smartass comment or cooked up some hairbrained idea in nearly an hour.

"I wanna stop by the Gun Runners 'fore we get into Freeside."

Until now.

The sniper's left eye twitched and he glanced at her over his shoulder.

"What you need from them you can easily get from anyone else. They're dangerous." He grunted, kicking away a dead bark scorpion.

Hawkins huffed. "Doubt it. They got this nice shiny one I've been waitin' for. It's aces, Boone. 'Sides, we have damn near four thousand caps. More after we hit Freeside."

That voice. Boone groaned. He called it her charmers voice, in his head. Once she whipped that out people tended to lighten up, as did their pockets.

They'd cheated nearly all of said caps out of honest people with that voice.

"Fine. You better duck when they start firing." They were going to get shot, no doubt about it.

But she just grinned lazily, mock-saluting him.

 

* * *

 

"It's too big."

Hawkins ignored him, rooting around determinedly for their caps.

Boone glared at the back of her head. "I said, it's too big. It'll knock you off your feet."

She whipped around, mouth twisted into a sneer. "You ain't even seen me shoot it yet. Hold it until then, alright?" She hissed, glancing at the robot, as if it were judging them.

Her companion crossed his arms and waited.

Finally, after rooting out the amount needed, the courier tugged the giant rifle over the counter, shoving the pile of ammunition in her pack. Slinging both on her back, she set off immediately, not waiting to see if he and the eyebot followed.

 

* * *

 

"It's called an anti-materiel-"

"I know what it's called." Boone cut her off, cleaning his own rifle reverently.

Hawkins grit her teeth and lit a new cigarette, inhaling the smoke gratefully. Eddy, as the courier had taken to calling him, floated cherrily next to her, keeping a low profile down hear her shoulders. It'd been useful so far in catching wasteland pests before they got too close, and Hawkins had taken a liking to him.

She raised the large weapon to her shoulder and aimed down the sights. The blind deathclaw slunk along, unaware of it's distant watchers.

Peggy Lee crooned softly from the pip-boy, Hawkins humming in beat with the quiet song.

Boone looked up and stared at her for a moment, before scrambling up. Kneeled beside her, taking his role as her spotter.

Hawkins twitched her nose and took a deep breath. Held it.

_Crack!_

The gun kicked violently, but the courier held on determinedly, wincing only slightly. Watching her closely, Boone felt pride well up in his gut. Something else, something sharp and painful, curled in his chest but he couldn't tell what it was, too focused on Hawkins gleeful expression.

She leapt to her feet. "Boone! Look, lookit what the damned thing did to that deathclaw!"

The sniper snorted and took the rifle, gazing at the crumpled corpse of the blind deathclaw. One shot, and it was blown away. A small smirk crept on his stoic face, but Hawkins caught it, grinning toothily.

She punched his arm lightly. "Guess the finky Gunrunners weren't sellin' us short after all, eh Boone?"

Receiving only a grunt in reply, Hawkins smirked and leaned back on the rock wall behind her, the silver lighter twirling through her fingers.

 

* * *

 

All the levity of the day had fled. Hawkins and Boone sat, looking at each other over the fire.

She was tense, that was obvious.

"I've been thinking about it. You didn't wake me up for my watch the other night. Why."

The courier looked down at her nails, chewing her lip anxiously. She'd figured this would come up sooner or later. Fear coiled in her gut, and the lie spilled forth before she could stop it.

"I couldn't sleep. Figured you needed it more than I did anyway." Her voice was steady, surprising her.

The sunglasses stared back at her for a moment, and Hawkins could feel the suspicion rolling off him in waves. He didn't believe her.

"Next time, wake me up. You'll get killed if you don't sleep."

With that, the sniper lay down on his cot and turned his back on her, rifle secure next to him.

ED-E beeped quietly beside her, and Hawkins gaze on her companion's stiff back.

This would not be the last she heard of that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be in Mississippi for ten days starting tomorrow. Uploading on my phone is hard...but reviews might persuade me to do it anyway!


	5. It's a Sin

The Freeside entrance was in sight, and Boone turned his eye on his companion, stopping next to her when she halted. Grumbling to herself, she moved behind a slab of concrete, tossing her pack on the ground.

The sniper watched curiously as she peeked her head around and glowered at the figures in black in white next to the entrance. Hissing between her teeth, Hawkins dug around in the bag, faced scrunched in concentration.

ED-E trilled quietly and Boone grunted in agreement.

She had pulled a dusty old cowboy hat, probably found in Primm, from the bag and plopped it on her head.

 _She looks like an idiot._  Boone thought.

A moment passed, and still she rooted around in the bag.

"You look like an idiot."

Hawkins didn't pause, merely snorted. "Thanks, Boone. Real charmer, you are."

Her companion rolled his eyes behind the sunglasses and leaned against the hot concrete.

 

* * *

 

"Hawkins? Lil' Hawkins?"

It came from behind them, one of the men in black and white.

The Kings.

The courier froze on the spot, her companion tensing and glancing at her attentively. Her chin trembled beneath the shadow of the hat, eyes narrowing in frustration behind the reading glasses she'd dug out (and if they looked a little like Jeannie May's, well, Boone wasn't complaining) and slipped on.

"I'll be damned straight to hell! Look who waltzed back into Freeside!" The man's voice was loud, his hand heavy as he slapped Hawkins on the back.

She stood still and silent, jaw grinding. The Kings member, oblivious, dragged her through the entrance, his friends following.

"Well come on then, girlie! You know who's waitin' for ya."

Hawkins shrugged him off and turned, eyes hard. "Scram, asshole." Brushing off her shoulder, she turned to glare at him. "If he asks, I'm busy and I ain't got time for chit chat and a whiskey picnic on memory lane."

With that, she stomped past the Old Mormon Fort and made her way through the subway train car, ignoring the Kings members littering the streets. Boone followed duitifully, ED-E bouncing along behind them, as they entered the Atomic Wrangler.

The twins grinned toothily at Hawkins and waved her away.

"Your room's waitin' for you, hon," one of them leered.

Boone's mouth twisted into a tiny smirk as they walked up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

"No."

The sniper glowered at her, sunglasses sitting on his face despite the low light in the room. Both of them were recently showered, courtesy of the Garrett twins, and neither wanted to admit to desperately wanting the cool sheets of the bed.

"Don't be an ass. Take the damn bed, Boone." She snapped, tossing their packs into a corner, kicking her boots beneath the bed.

"No."

"Take it, or I swear to all that is holy, I'll-"

Boone was suddenly very close to her face, sunglasses off, hard eyes staring into hers.

"You'll what?" He said softly, dangerously.

Hawkins swallowed heavily, fingers dancing against her thigh. Neither moved.

The sniper smirked. "That's what I thought." And nudged her shoulder, knocking her off balance and onto the bed with a soft thump. Hawkins sat up, spluttering, legs tangled in the sheets. She glared at him as he settled down on the sofa, rifle on the floor below him.

Sensing a lost battle, she shoved the heavy comforter back and spread herself out beneath the sheets, grumbling.

"Prick," she muttered, dozing off quickly.

Boone grinned.

 

* * *

 

Hawkins shoved the blonde doctor against the metal shelves, eyes blazing, hands fisted in his white lab coat. He groaned in pain, holding the back of his head, and she seized the front of him again, jerking his tall form down to her level, nearly a foot below him.

" _Where. Is. He."_  Hawkins growled, face only inches from his.

Arcade Gannon swallowed audibly and stuttered for a moment. "H-he's with Julie and some others. They've s-stablized him, but-"

" _But?_ " She hissed, grip tightening.

"But, there's some superficial wounds they're stitching up, to fight infection. Now please, while I enjoy a little rough and tumble, this is a bit much..." He ended lightly, fear fading as he looked at the young woman before him.

Hawkins released him with a shudder and fell back against the cot, clutching her head. Arcade rushed forward, gently removing her hands.

A small groan escaped her.

It wasn't supposed to happen like it did. They were just taking a trip to Mick and Ralph's for some supplies of the more devious nature, things they couldn't find elsewhere in Freeside.

Things had gone great, until a junkie had gotten off a few lucky shots with a .9mm and a tire iron. Hawkins had barely been able to drag herself and Boone to the sight of a King on the streetside in time to save them both.

The courier sat up suddenly, alarming the doctor in front of her. She peered up at him from between her fingers, before lowering them.

"Say, doc, the Kings still out there?" She asked, voice shaky.

Arcade eyed her warily before crossing his arms. "Unfortunately for the general populace, yes. They have the junkie with them, the one that er...shot, your friend."

Hawkins grinned nastily through her concussion, standing up unsteadily, allowing the doctor to grip her supportively.

"Platinum. Mind takin' this party outside, doc?"

Arcade sighed.

"I live to serve."

 

* * *

 

The Kings held the struggling man in an alleyway near the Fort, glancing up as Hawkins appeared with her arm around Arcade's shoulder. The two stopped in front of the junkie, who thrashed and yelled wildly at the sight of the haggard courier.

"I'm sorry man, I'm sorry, I din't mean it, just lookin' for a few easy caps, man, you gotta understand!" He wailed, tears streaking down his dirty face.

Hawkins lifted her arm off of Arcade, struggling to stand up on her own, swaying dangerously. Hissing through his teeth in irritation, the doctor gripped her waist with one hand, the other steadying her shoulder. Privately he wondered how he always managed to attract the strange ones. 

Hawkins stared down at her would-be assassin, hand straying to her belt.

The man panicked. "'m sorry, please lady, I'm sorry!"

Pulling out a gleaming hunting knife, eyes hazy as she grinned. All teeth. Arcade winced and the junkie struggled one more time. "I'm sorry, lady."

"No. You're not. Not yet, anyway." Hawkins crooned smoothly, hand tight on the knife.

The Kings jerked the man to his feet, kicking and screaming.

Arcade turned away and tightened his hand on her waist as Hawkins went to work, ignoring the hot spray of blood on the dusty cement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! Two in one night.


	6. These Things We Do

 

Boone awoke to heated voices whispering. Or trying to. 

He opened his eyes slowly and winced as pain lanced up his side. Memories of being shot rushed back.  _Typical Freeside._

The voices rose. He took a few deep breaths and listened closely; they were just outside the medical tent. It was Hawkins, and someone else. A male someone. 

_Interesting, she seems to attract them like flies to honey. Or a corpse. Ha._

"You shoulda come to me honey," The man said, his voice soft and lilting. He had that same accent as the Kings.

"Don't call me that. And I fuckin' told you I was, I  _am_ , busy. I don't got time for your bullshit, King." Hawkins hissed.

Ah. Boone closed his eyes, understanding.  _This is THE King._ That would explain the accent. But not the animosity. The tension was so thick in the air he could practically taste it.

"You need to make time. Leavin' outta nowhere like that, what was I supposed to think?" The King replied, voice taking a hard edge.

Hawkins groaned loudly. "I got my reasons, and believe me babydoll, they ain't none of your business. "

"They are now that you're startin' shit on my streets, Hawkins." He grit out. Boone could hear the frustration in the other man's voice, and tensed.

"Me startin' shit? Did you not see that junkie fucker? If you think-"

The King cut her off. "Totin' around that sniper friend of yours like a damn accessory? Yeah, YOU are starting shit." He growled, and a loud crack sounded. He had punched a crate.

Boone moved to sit up, pain sending him reeling.

But the King continued. "You didn't stop to think for a damn minute, did you? No, you never do. Just rushin' headlong into the thick of things."

Hawkins was silent. Boone didn't move, steadying himself on the bed, listening closely. He heard her sigh.

"I don't need your help, King." She muttered.

The King laughed softly. "You sure proved your point last night, sweetheart."

Boone took a step forward, nearly making it to the opening of the tent before tumbling to the ground, crashing loudly into a metal shelf. Pain raced up and down his back, and the sniper stifled a groan. A piece of metal had scratched his shirtless back, blood trickling down his spine hotly.

Hawkins burst into the tent, worry etched into her sunburned face. The King appeared behind her, decidedly less concerned.

The courier knelt beside Boone and gently lifted him into a sitting position, warm hands ghosting over his wound. Looking down wearily, Boone caught a glimpse of her hands, blood clashing violently with the calloused, nearly tansluscent skin. He grit his teeth against the pain.

"'m fine. Bed." He said shortly, moving to lift himself.

"Stop that, you stubborn ass." she lifted him with a bit of struggling to the bed before turning to the King.

"Go get a doctor. The blonde one, Arcade is his name. Now." she ordered, eyes hard.

The King wrinkled his nose at her and walked out without another word.

Hawkins let loose a small sigh and turned to her companion.

"Heard it all, didn't you?"

"Every word."

She ran a hand down her face. "Well that's just aces, then."

* * *

Moonlight filtered in through the tent opening. ED-E floated outside, keeping watch for the two companions within, despite the quiet environment of the Followers fort. Very determined, the little bot was. 

Boone sat propped up on the bed, naked chest bandaged courtesy of a grumpy Arcade, sunglasses and beret firmly in place. Hawkins sat on foot of the bed, legs crossed as she fiddled with her Pip-Boy, mumbling softly to herself.

The sniper cleared his throat. "How do you know the King?"

Hawkins froze, eyes fixed on a sole point on the screen. Slowly, she looked up at him then glanced down at her faded blue socks

"I suppose I owe you that much." she mumbled.

The tent was silent for a moment. Boone nearly thought her mind had wandered and she'd forgotten, but just as he opened his mouth, she continued.

"Came from Reno, originally. Fuckin' Raiders cleaned out my family, figured Vegas was the best place to come. Not real sure on how I made it up here; twiggy fourteen year old, barely trailing along behind some caravan. The guard, he gave me my first gun. An old damn .10mm, barely worth it's weight in caps." Hawkins stopped there, rubbing her forehead.

The sniper waited patiently.

"The King took me in, once I made it into Freeside. Scrappy little thing, he said. Good for outrunnin' NCR farmers." she snorted, smiling mirthlessly. "Few years later, I'd saved enough to get onto the Strip. Not long after that, I became a Courier for the Mojave Express. Nothin' better to do, I guess."

Hawkins looked up at him, her face difficult for him to read. He waited a moment.

"Hope I'm not interrupting, well, I probably am, from the looks of you both. Not the best timing in the world, I'm afraid." Arcade piped up from he tent entrance, hands full of fresh gauze.

The two occupants glanced at him balefully, Boone's more so than the placid courier.

He hated being interrupted.

* * *

"About when did you start talking like the Chairmen down at the Tops." Boone said quietly, now that they were finally alone.

He could have sworn hell had frozen over, from the look she shot at him. 

"Y'know how I never ask you about your wife, Boone?" her voice was hard, brooking no room for arguement.

Boone went rigid, fists tightening in the sheets. His jaw clenched and he looked away.

They didn't talk for the rest of the night.

But the truth was, Hawkins admitted to herself silently,  _I don't remember._

* * *

Hawkins pursed her lips and turned to Boone, who stared back at her impassively.

"I gotta go in there alone. Stay out here with Eddy. Try not to start any shit, alright?" she said quickly, moving forward before he could protest, dissappearing into the Lucky 38.

Boone grit his teeth and moved slowly to sit down on a bench, side twinging with pain. The Med-x helped, but couldn't numb him completely. He sat down, and the eyebot followed faithfully.

If she wasn't back in an hour, he'd burn the place to the ground.

* * *

Hawkins gazed up at the giant monitor, biting her thumbnail thoughtfully.

"So... _whatever_  it takes to get the chip back?" she asked, giddy.

"The malicious intent is radiating off of you, dear girl. Make haste, before you burst." House said dryly, before ending the communication, leaving Hawkins to stand in the penthouse, alone.

_I like him. Big Daddy House, wasn't quite expecting a computer terminal...different folks, I guess._

She quickly made her way to the elevator, mind whirring. It was nearly nine o'clock when she exited the casino, the Strip's bright lights nearly making up for the absent sun.

Boone eyed her as she came closer, standing up slowly.

He raised an eyebrow at her expression. She grinned nastily at him, her expression the brightest it had been in nearly two days.

"Jonesin' for a trip to the Tops, Boone?"

The sniper crossed his arms, silent. He couldn't ignore the cold dread that trickled down his spine as they made their way across the Strip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo it's been over a month. Oops.


	7. like a bad penny

Hawkins took a deep breath as she shakily approached the front desk. Her boots thumped quietly against the tile, unheard over the nightly riffraff of the casino.

Boone gripped her arm before she got too far.

"You're out of your fucking mind if you think I'm staying here." He growled decisively.

She turned slowly, pleasant expression still on her face. Her grey eyes were hard beneath the reading glasses she'd adorned.

"I don't recall askin' you for your opinion, Boone. It'll look-"

He cut her off. "Do you remember what happened the last time you two met? He blew a hole in your head." Boone's gaze flicked up to her forehead, and Hawkins' face reddened.

She gripped his wrist tightly, eyes boring into his.

"If he runs, shoot 'im dead, alright? I need you here, Boone. That little robot outside won't do much good if he gets past those doors." She whispered urgently, ignoring the odd look the greeter was shooting her.

Boone glared at her for a moment then scoffed, turning away. Hawkins grinned.

"Ring a ding."

 

* * *

 

"What in the goddamn..."

Hawkins stared, hands gripping her green dress tightly. She'd slipped into it after parting with Boone; to fit in, she told herself. Fat lot of good that did her now. Growling, she pulled Benny into the elevator, ignoring the shouted protests of his guards. The doors shut securely before they could fire.

She shoved him roughly against the wall, faces inches from his. They stared at each other for a moment before the Chairman laughed weakly, dropping his head back against the wall, eyes closed.

"Shoulda figured you'd still be alive, babydoll. Can't expect anythin' less from you." Benny said quietly, reaching up to rub his forehead.

Hawkins took a few deep breaths, stepping back. Her eyes burned and she angrily brushed tears away, jaw clenched.

Benny looked up and the two locked stared at each other.

"How do you...know me?" She asked, voice shaky. Her fingers slid a knife out of the thigh holster; she'd only barely been able to slip it past the greeter.

The Chairman stared at her for a moment, shock evident on his face. Slowly, understanding seemed to settle over him, and he reached forward. Hawkins jerked but held still as his hands ghosted over her scar.

"Oh, kid. You really did lose some marbles, didn't you?" Benny murmured.

Hawkins let out a pained cry and jerked forward, the knife sliding easily into his abdomen. Benny gasped, blood pooling around the wound. She slid to the ground with him, clutching his shoulders and guiding him into her lap as he bled onto the cheap tiled floor.

He looked up at her and smirked weakly.

"Kinda figured this too." He choked out.

The courier's chest began to heave, throat constricted with panic. A blood soaked hand reached up to trace her cheek, then past her eye to her scar, a trail of blood in it's wake. Blood bubbled up past his lips.

"Kitten, listen...that, that House ain't one of the good ones, he'll..." Benny trailed off, body shuddering.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and the guards stood in front of the door, another man leading them. He choked out a gasp and gripped the elevator door, locking eyes with Hawkins. His mouth dropped into a gape.

"B-benny, jesus, what the hell..." The man whispered stumbling forward and kneeling beside his boss.

Hawkins gripped Benny tighter, shaking violently.

"Swank, baby." The dying man drawled, laughing weakly. "Let the kitten slide, will ya? She ain't done nothin...nothin'..." He trailed off, reaching into his pocket. A gun came out with him, and he pressed it into Hawkins' hand, tugging her down to whisper something, lips ghosting over her ear before he slumped back.

Hawkins and Swank stared as Benny died in the courier's lap, her knife stuck between his ribs.

 

* * *

 

"Bathroom's in the back." Swank muttered, brushing past her to the bar.

Hawkins moved slowly through the Presidential Suite, blood sticky on her skin beneath the dress. Boone stood silently by the door, ED-E floating above him. She'd quietly asked for them to be brought up after the elevator had been cleared. 

Slipping into the bathroom, she stood for a moment, leaning against the door. Not bothering to pull off her dress Hawkins set the gun, Maria, Swank had called it, down and stepped into the shower.

_"Cleaner than any I've ever seen,_ " she mused, turning the knobs roughly.

Scalding water poured over her, the dried, caked blood dripping off in rivulets. The courier stood there for a few minutes, staring blankly at her hands. Her eyes began to burn.

Boone found her sitting in the tub nearly two hours later, the water long gone freezing, body shaking. She leaned limply against the side, asleep.

 

* * *

 

Swank raised an eyebrow when the sniper carried Hawkins in and laid her on the couch, shaking his head and knocking back a glass of amber liquid.

"Take it you don't know who this cat is."

Boone looked at him sharply. "No. Not like you do."

Swank laughed mirthlessly.

"Get 'er to tell you the story sometime, when the kid's got her head back on straight."

With that, the chairman stood and walked out of the suite, slamming the door behind him.

Boone sighed.

 

* * *

 

ED-E whirred wildly as the elevator pinged, announcing Hawkins' arrival from the penthouse. They'd entered the Lucky 38 a few hours earlier, the courier dissappearing almost immediately. Boone looked up from his rifle as she entered the kitchen. Skin pale and waxy, she looked every bit the guilty murderer; she wrung her hands constantly and he knew without asking that she could still see the blood on them. 

He knew the feeling.

She sat down across from him, hands folded atop the table. Something golden was hidden between her fingers.

"Boone."

He set his cleaning tools down and looked at her expectantly.

Watching him carefully, she slid a small coin across the table. He picked it up after a moment's hesitation, inspecting it.

It was Caesar's Mark.

In an instant the sniper had launched himself across the table, pinning the courier to the wall behind her. Hawkins grasped his wrists tightly, calmly, as if she were expecting it. Her grey eyes, adorned with tired circles met his.

"Where. Did. You. Get. This." He spat, grip tightening.

"I took a breather, after talking to House. He was waiting for me, outside." she said, blinking slowly. "I'd seen him before, in Nipton. His name is...Vulpes, I think. Vulpes Inculta."

Boone let out a heavy breath, waiting for her to continue.

"Caesar...heard of what happened to Benny. Mighty fast, if you ask me. According to Vulpes," she winced, interrupted as Boone's slammed her back against the wall.

"You say his name like you're  _friends_." He hissed.

Hawkins stared at him. "Will you let me finish?"

He sneered at her. She took it as a sign to continue

"According to  _him_ , Caesar's got shifty spies all over the place. He wants me to come to the Fort. I went back inside, after  _he_  left, and told House. He asked me to go...something about an underground bunker. And that's it." She finished.

It seemed like hours before Boone finally let her go, only to trap her with his palms on either side of her head. His face was inches from her as he stared at her intently.

"What are you going to do?" His voice was low, dangerous.

The courier swallowed audibly, choosing her words with care. "I'm going to go...alone."

Boone crashed his fist into the wall beside her head. "Wrong answer." 

Lifting her by the front of her shirt, he turned and slammed her down on the table; crowding close, he threw his sunglasses off and resisted the urge to wrap his hands around her small neck.

"You do not get to take this from me." He whispered hoarsely.

She stared up at him, eyes wide. "Boone...how did you know your wife was dead?"

Boone's face softened briefly, eyes dark. He dropped his head on her shoulder and breathed heavily. The two stayed like that for what seemed like hours before Boone released her roughly and stalked out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Hawkins had been asleep for nearly four hours, when she jerked awake, coming face to face with a red beret. Boone sat on the floor with his back against the mattress, the back of his head inches from her face. The courier lay still.

"They took her in the middle of the night. Not real subtle though; didn't take me long to find their trail." He murmured, barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Once I found them, they were selling her off. Like cattle. All I had was the rifle, and the distance between us. Carla...she didn't deserve what they would've done to her. No one does."

He paused again, breathing ragged.

"So I took the shot."

Hawkins sat quietly for a moment before reaching forward tentatively, brushing his neck. Slightly groggy from sleep, she slid out of bed and lowered herself onto the floor next to Boone, pressing against his side lightly.

"This is bigger than us, Boone." Hawkins said quietly.

The sniper next to her nodded absently, arms dangling off his knees.

"If I can't go with you, someone else will. House give you a time limit?" He asked.

Hawkins shook her head. "Sooner, rather than later. Figure I've got about a week."

Boone grunted. "We've got time. I know a woman, hangs around the Mojave Outpost. Figure you'll be able to convince her, with that tongue of yours." He muttered.

The courier jerked away, cheeks red, and nodded quickly.

"A-aces. We'll leave tomorrow..." She said quietly, crossing her arms and tucking her knees to her chest.

A few moments passed before she began to doze, head falling forward a tad. Reaching out, Boone pushed her head down on his shoulder, settling back against the bed.

"Softie." She murmured, falling asleep almost instantly.

Boone snorted and leaned his head back.

_"Carla...:"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughh so tired so this has like a million errors. <3


	8. Hellbound

Hawkins stood blankly in front of Caesar's throne, staring at the man standing beside it. The man simply glanced at her before returning his gaze forward, ignoring her. The despot in front of her looked between the two before grinning slyly.

"So I take it you've met Vulpes, the best of my Frumentarii." He said smoothly, leaning back.

The courier's grey eyes snapped back to Caesar, face paling rapidly.

_Goddammit, stop zoning out._  She thought furiously at her self, resisting the urge to pinch her neck.

Hawkins nodded slowly, hands fisted. Caesar waved his hand at her, waiting for an explanation. The urge to slap the imperious look off his face coiled hotly in her gut and the Courier felt a nasty smile twitch her lips.

"Well?"

"Nipton, we met in Nipton." She waited a moment, eyes dragging down Vulpes' form, expression cool.

_Come on baby, muster up that Vegas swagger_.

"Though I barely remember him; he must not have made much of an impression." Hawkins finished, smiling sweetly and clasping her hands behind her back.

Caesar laughed loudly, startling the man on his left. Lucius, she'd heard him called. Vulpes tensed beside the throne, pale hands fisting at his sides but he did not look at her. Caesar looked between the two of them again, laughter trailing into a sigh.

"Now, about that chip..." The despot began, grin as wide as hers.

* * *

A hand gripped her hair tightly and dragged her behind the weather station building, shoving her roughly against the wall. Hawkins struggled violently, flailing against her attacker but fatigued from the battle that had taken place below. The fucking security in the bunker was ridiculous. She'd have a bone to pick with House later. Jolting her from her thoughts, Vulpes Inculta gripped her by the throat, casting a quick glance at Cass and ED-E. The tall woman started forward, eyes blazing.

Boone had taken the woman outside at the Mojave Outpost, whatever stern words of warning he'd hissed at her seemingly taking root as the tall redhead had not left her side once since stepping foot in Legion territory. The two women had chatted quietly on the trip east, ever aware of the faint glint of a scope behind them. 

Now, Cass seemed near panic as a knife appeared in her hand, seemingly ready to take on the entire camp. 

Hawkins hissed between her teeth and eyes flicked up to Vulpes, then back to her new friend. She couldn't let this happen.

Calm, the Courier held up a hand. "C-cass. It's fine. Just...go into the station and wait for me?"

Her companion glared at her, muttering some nonsense about all-knowing snipers before slamming the door open, stomping into the weather station. The robot followed.

Vulpes glowered down at her, gripping her neck tightly.

"Very smart, profligate. Your friend nearly got herself killed. Though I'm not sure how she slipped that pathetic shiv past the guards. I see a discussion about proper security is in order." He said, his voice like liquid silver, gliding over her skin.

Hawkins shuddered as his breath ghosted hotly over her ear.

"What do you want," Hawkins hissed, large eyes narrowed up at him.

The leader of the Frumentarii grinned down at her, faces inches from her own.

"The truth, profligate. I want to know why you look exponentially worse than when you entered; what was in the bunker," he paused, looking over her considerately. "But I have the feeling you won't simply tell me, You are _truly_ stubborn. No matter.  I'll get what I need.You can be sure of that." He murmured, leaning forward. His lips brushed her neck, tongue flicking out to capture her earlobe.

The courier's eyes widened in shock, mouth agape.

_Oh...my..oh.._.

Vulpes Inculta was  _very_  good at his job.

* * *

"You're telling me, that a _fall_ did that to you."

Hawkins looked over at the woman passed out on the dining table of the Lucky 38's presidential suite. She hurriedly nodded. The sniper looked unimpressed.

"Drunk as a skunk, Cass was, when we stopped in Primm on the way back up. Carried her back to her room, she passed out on the stairs and we took a tumble." The courier confided, cheeks coloring.

Boone stared down at her. "You fell on your neck _._ " He didn't sound impressed.

He reached forward, fingers tracing delicately over the bruised skin of her neck, lip curling at the deep purple and yellow coloring. His face twisted further as his calloused fingers brushed the deepest purple. Hawkins winced and he jerked back.

She looked up at him meekly. "Must've been Cass, she landed right on top of me."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm going to bed."

The courier sighed as the door slammed, collapsing into a chair.

_I'm fucked._

* * *

Cass looked up at Hawkins as the younger woman entered the room, letting out a low whistle. The courier scowled at her and made her way to the refrigerator, ignoring the drunken riflewoman. She rifled through the shelves, pulling out a bottle of vodka and a snack cake, before sitting at the table and kicking up her legs.

Her companion smirked at her and took a gulp of her own alcohol. The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, having come to an agreement a two weeks ago after their return from the Fort. Cass had caught the tail end of her conversation with Boone and snorted with laughter the next night after sleeping off her hangover. Two bottles of whiskey and a promise of a paid tab at the Wrangler had bought the woman's silence. But she still had that shit eating grin on her face, Hawkins noted with a frown.

"Special occasion I don't know about?" Cass piped up coyly.

Hawkins stared at her. "Why would there be?"

"Sweetcheeks, those shorts leave little to the imagination. I mean, that top's pretty tame, but unzip that black merc vest a little and...not to mention those boots."

The courier looked confused for a moment, looking down at herself. Her pink, halfsleeve shirt sticking out from under the vest was cool and comfortable, delivering her from the heat. The shorts were easy to move in as well.

Before she could reply, Boone thumped into the dining room. The two women fell silent as the sniper collected his food and turned to leave and glanced at the younger woman. He stopped cold, looking at her from over the rim of his sunglasses.

"Where're you going?"

"The Tops."

A tense pause.

"Not in that getup." And he turned on his heel, cracking open the bottle of water as he went.

Cass choked on her whiskey, spluttering. Hawkins gaped at him, nearly falling out of her chair as she went to follow him into the hallway.

"The fuck's that 'sposed to mean?" She exclaimed, whirling him around.

Boone stared at her, nonplussed.

"They'd be on you in seconds. Those pricks aren't nothing but a bunch of horny bastards and you won't have a gun to your name in there." He replied calmly.

Hawkins' face began to redden and she clenched her fists. Cass was silent in the doorway, amusement etched along her face.

"And what if they are? What if I think that's just fucking  _platinum_? It's not like I've gotten any decent...attention in nearly two weeks, male or otherwise. You two are just bundles of fun but a girl's gotta get out sometime." She ended in a grumble, crossing her arms.

Boone went to reply, then stopped, cocking his head. Behind him, Cass slowly raised her hand to her mouth, backing slowly back into the dining room, and shutting the door quietly.

Hawkins apparently realized her mistake, as her eyes got very large and she stared at Boone in horror, gripping her neck guiltily. His eyes caught the movement and the sniper looked furious.

"...two _weeks_?" He hissed.

He advanced on Hawkins quickly, gaining on her as she stumbled backwards. He reached for her and the courier quickly backed into the elevator. She shut the door with a clang, waving to him weakly as the elevator descended.

Boone slammed his fist into the door in frustration, and down below, Hawkins slammed her head against the wall.

_Fuck._

* * *

Hawkins set up in a booth on the wall of The Tops casino floor, nursing her Sarsparilla delicately. Mind wandering, she watched the gamblers and the way their expressions changed, depending on their luck. In the span of an hour, she saw several men and women go completely broke. Despite their misfortune, many walked away just as cheerful as they entered.

Granted, they were drunk, but Hawkins liked to think of it as that certain Tops charm.

A body slid into the seat opposite her. The courier looked up, expressionless.

"Can't say I'm surprised. Knew you'd come back sooner or later, kid." Swank said casually, leaning back in the booth like he owned the place.

_I guess he does, now_. Hawkins reflected, her body tense.

The chairman glanced at her, then snorted. "Calm down, I ain't here for trouble. Just...conversation, I guess." He finished lamely.

Hawkins stared at him for a moment, feeling lost.

"Swank?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Who am I? I mean, who am I, here? Because, everywhere else, I know what I am, I  _remember_  myself. But..." She paused, looking down at her ragged fingernails. "But here...I don't know."

Swank considered her for a moment, his face impossible to read.

"C'mon. I wanna show you somethin'."

* * *

The two stood on a balcony overlooking the Strip. Hawkins gripped the railing tightly, feeling breathlesss. The view was spectacular, and she was silent for a moment, drinking in the sight of her home.

"Benny always got a kick outta the fact that you ditched the Kings for us. Said it finally showed 'em who's boss." Swank said quietly from the doorway, cigarette hanging between his lips.

Hawkins turned to him, taking her preferred addiction as it was offered. Smoke curled around the two as they sat looking down at the Strip, the gamblers below the size of tiny dolls.

"Do you know...why I came here?"

Swank shook his head. "Not nothin' that Benny didn't tell me, he-"

"Why did Benny know, and not you?" Hawkins asked curiously.

The man was silent a he stared at her. The courier began to get uncomfortable, face reddening.

"Jesus kid, you really don't remember at all, do you?"

Hawkins glared at him and he put his hands up in mock surrender.

"Sorry but...I figured you'd remember, you know, the emotional stuff."

The lights and sound seemed to fade away as the courier ran those words over in her head.  _Emotional stuff._  Her cigarette continued to burn in her fingertips without her notice.

"I didn't...Benny and I weren't..."

Swank sighed and rubbed his forehead, looking her her pityingly. He reached forward and plucked the cigarette out of her hand before it burned her, crushing it in the ashtray. His brown eyes looked up at her, guilt etched into his every feature.

"Yeah, kitten. You were."

Hawkins' head dropped into her hands, eyes burning.

"Oh,  _god._ "

And for the first time since she'd stabbed the man that shot her, the courier cried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops its been like a year


	9. Small Reprieves

 

Hawkins stared at Boone quietly from the bed, his expression passive. 

"You broke his nose." She commented.

"I thought he'd...done something."

The two companions were silent for a moment.

"Swank...he didn't do anything. He just..." Her voice faltered, and Hawkins' eyes misted over as her mind drifted away.

Boone sat on the end of the bed, hestitating, before gently grasping her ankle through the blanket. Jerking out of her trance, she stared at him with wide eyes. He had to strain to hear her.

"Get me out of here, Boone." 

"Alright."

And they were gone. 

* * *

Hawkins gripped the golden pistol tight in her hand, staring down at the water. They were on the beach of Lake Mead, dead lakelurks scattering the sand around them. Boone watched his companion carefully as she stepped into the water. The waves lapped at her calves and she swayed at the sensation.

The moon reflected it's light off the top of the lake, casting an almost eerie glow on the courier. She dropped to her knees abruptly, considering the gun in her hands.

"He just let me kill him." Hawkins said finally, looking up at the dark sky.

Boone was silent behind her, eyes glued to her still form. It was just the two of them, having left Cass and ED-E at the Lucky 38. The beach was silent except for the quiet brush of the tide against the sand. 

"Why did he..." She trailed off, finishing the thought in her head. Boone was struck with the sudden ache to hear her thoughts; he recoiled from the feeling. She deserved her privacy.

Standing suddenly, Hawkins began to strip off her clothes, standing in only her underwear before Boone could comprehend what she was doing. Setting Maria down gently on her clothes, she returned to the water and disappeared beneath the surface.

Boone started forward, peering down into the ripples, only to see a distorted image of himself. Cursing, he sat down his rifle and knelt down to pull of his boots, ready to jump in after her. A gasp broke the silence as Hawkins resurfaced. Her auburn hair was plastered to her head and deep and dark circles beneath her eyes stood stark against her freckled skin. 

The image tore at something in his chest, and Boone reached forward, tugging her out of the water. Arm wrapped around her shoulder, he resisted the pull to stare down at her and chose instead to fuss her back into her clothes. 

Once dressed, Hawkins still shivered, but refused to look at him. He shook her tense form gently. After a moment, she turned to him, grey eyes large as they peered up at him.

"We'll figure it out." He murmured.

The courier stared at him for a moment, before nodding absently. Boone tightened his grip on her shoulder, body pressing tighter to hers as he helped her up and back to the camp.

Hawkins slept curled next to him that night, one hand curled loosely around the beret he'd given her while the other gripped the golden pistol tightly. 

Her companion gazed down at her. 

_We'll figure it out._

* * *

Hawkins nibbled on her thumbnail, watching Boone over the fire. His face was closed off but less tense, sleep softening his features considerably. The wasteland was quiet for the moment, and the courier allowed her mind to wander.

That numbness still bit at the edges of her consciousness during the day, dulling everything into a soft hum. Colors seemed muted, less intense. Any fights they happened to get into were over quickly, and Hawkins would only recognize she'd been injured minutes later. From the tense line of Boone's back, she could see it bothered him.

 _I wonder, if he'd known what he was getting into...if he'd still be here._ Hawkins pondered, pulling a bit of dried meat out of her bag to snack lightly. 

With her cigarette stash having dwindled amazingly in the past few weeks, the courier had turned back to that old stand by, the one that made Boone pale and curious. After a firefight with a couple of Powder Gangers, she had quietly stepped away to go about her gory business. Hawkins felt no shame over her little taboo habit, picked up from...well, she couldn't quite remember but the muscle memory was there. She tried not to force the memory.

A coyote howled a little ways away and Hawkins gripped Maria tightly, finger itching over the trigger. The gun had rarely left her side over the course of the past few days. She wouldn't be surprised if the holy image was etched into her palm.

Shadows danced across the sniper's back as he shifted restlessly in his sleep, mumbling quietly.

Shivering with exhaustion, stomach clenched, Hawkins leaned forward to look at him. Her mind seemed clearer now that the sun had set and the air was quiet. Shakily, she reached up and traced her scars, eyes glazing over.

"Our lives seem to thrive in the dark. Funny how that works, isn't it Boone?"

* * *

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Hawkins' eyes flicked to Boone where he stood in the doorway. The King, Sergio, began hacking at her hair, humming cheerily as he did it. The sniper's jaw clenched and his companion smiled brightly at him, eyes gleaming.

"Too late. 'sides, it'll grow back. Eventually." Hawkins replied.

In the end, she was left with her hair shorter than it had ever been. The auburn mass cropped close to her head and out of her eyes, the length taming the waves flat.

The flamboyant King clapped his hands and spun her around.

"Now it won't look like you're trying to hide those wicked scars. They make you look quite scary." He chattered loudly.

Hawkins thanked him graciously and turned to Boone as they exited Freeside.

"You like it?" She asked, smile still on her face. For the moment.

He stopped and considered her for a moment, eyes lingering on the white lines above her eye. He reached forward, fingers brushing over the raised scars. Boone gave her credit for not flinching this time, and felt something in his gut twist. He pulled away.

"Suits you. Where to next?" 

Hawkins looked him over, her expression falling blank.

"Goodsprings."

"Goodsprings." Boone repeated, dumbfounded.

"Ain't that what I just said? I swear, if you keep this up, I'll have to kidnap Arcade instead."

Boone's lips tightened, but he was silent as they made their way out of Freeside, and back into the wasteland.

* * *

As they stumbled out of the Prospector Saloon, Boone steered Hawkins toward the empty house behind Chet's shop. Once they had kicked their way inside and dusted off the beds, he allowed her to sit down.

"You're drunk."

The courier snorted. "How observant of you, Boone."

She fell back against the bed, humming to the tune of her radio as she stared up at the ceiling. Boone settled into an armchair by the bed and kicked his legs up onto a small table, eyeing her. He paused for a moment before lowering his sunglasses.

Although it was completely gone, the memory of the hickey that had been on her neck stood fresh in Boone's mind. His jaw clenched.

"What did you mean...you hadn't gotten any attention in a few weeks?" He asked quietly.

_Good thing she's drunk. That right hook is fucking merciless._

Hawkins looked over at him blearily, grey eyes narrowed, before she went digging through her pockets. She pulled out a half-full bottle of tequila, swigging back a good mouthful. Wiping her mouth, she looked over at him.

"I'm not nearly smashed enough for this." She mumbled.

Ten minutes and the rest of the bottle later, she finally answered him. Back against the wall, and eyes hooded, Hawkins looked the very definition of shit-face drunk.

"Caesar's a dumbfuck rat-bastard, first off. Dinnit even wanna know what was down there, 'n the bunker. Took it on faith that I blew it up." Hawkins hummed. "But him...Vulpes. He's a smart cat, that's for sure. Caught me as we were comin' out of the buildin'."

Boone tensed and the courier turned to him, waving away his worry.

"I told Cass and Eddy to go back inside...he woulda just shot 'em anyway. Manhandled me a bit. 's what these are from," She clarified by twisting her back to him and lifting up her shirt, half-healed scratches and scrapes running from her neck to her lower back. Before he could reply, she continued. "Wanted t' know what was down there. I dinnit tell 'im, of course. But he tried to make me. He didn't hurt me...much. Let it never be said that Vulpes Inculta is not good at his job, because believe me...I almost wanted to, for a minute. Girl's gotta have some attention, you know?"

She trailed off, unaware of the seething sniper across from her. Staring obliviously  up at the ceiling, she went to take the last sip of liquor, only to have it snatched from her. The bottle smashed violently against the wall. Two rough hands siezed her shirt and slammed her back against the wall she had been leaning on.

Boone was on his knees on the bed between her legs, face inches from hers.

"Some attention, from a fucking Legion _spy_? The best they have, no less, the fuck were you thinking." He ground out every word as if they were painful to him.

Hawkins stared up at him, mouth open slightly. Through drunken haze, she could feel the anger radiating off of him. Sure, she'd seen Boone pissed off before, but this...this was different. Unsure of what to say, she just stared up guiltily at him, sobering slightly. 

"I was thinkin' that I'd rather be felt up, than shot to the ground. That I'd rather have a hickey, than have Cass dead and ED-E a steaming pile of slag." Hawkins murmured finally, looking away.

Boone wasn't having it. He gripped her jaw and jerked it, making her look at him. His forehead brushed hers and his breath ghosted over her face hotly. He reached up and jerked his sunglasses off his face, tossing them to the bed. Deep brown met grey and Hawkins shivered. 

Their breath mingled and the sniper leaned forward, hands tightening in her faded shirt. 

"What are you thinking now?" He murmured.


	10. Midnight Moonshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but a barrel of bad decisions.

Hawkins swallowed thickly, eyes searching Boone's. Drunk as she was, it wasn't hard to read his face or his body, the way his breath fanned across her cheeks. Craig Boone never once in his life looked at her like this, not so close and not nearly so...open.

It set a fire in her belly.

"I'm thinkin'..." she paused, licking her lower lip with a soft sigh. His eyes darted down, spine rigid. 

"I'm thinkin' this is bad, bad idea." 

Warm hands found their way to her naked waist where her shirt had rucked up to her bra; Hawkins nearly keened, and was disgusted with herself. A couple shots and a few weeks of nothing but her own hand between her thighs, and she'd been reduced to a squirming mess.

But no, her mind supplied wickedly, it wasn't just that. This was Boone. And those hands had steadied her for months, watched her back and never judged her while she sank her teeth into her deepest sin. Pet her hair while she heaved into Lake Meade after stabbing to death the man that shot her in the head.

"Thats my line." Boone murmured. His forehead pressed against hers gently and Hawkins watched in wonder as his eyes closed and his shoulders dropped with a sigh. 

_He's beautiful._

Driven by some instinct she didn't dare place, the courier lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him close.

They stayed that way for a long time. The burn of alcohol had long since passed on their tongues but the warmth still lingered in the dusty bedroom. 

Without opening his eyes Boone tightened his grasp on her waist.

"Why are we here in Goodsprings, Hawkins."

Her heart sank.

_Please don't. Don't ask me to tell you, tell you that I-_

"I...I don't know. After what Swank told me about Benny, about...us, I couldn't. I couldn't, Boone. I didn't know where else to go. Everything is familiar and at the same time it's not. It's like a fever dream, someone else's memory." 

_-I came here to put a bullet in my head._

Her fingers had tightened on his nape without realizing it and had drawn him closer, breath mingling until their lips brushed with every panicked word. Panic curled low in her belly as she stared into his now open eyes, and she made to pull back but found that she couldn't. Boone held tight.

"We'll figure it out. But this isn't a dream Hawkins, not anymore."

Slowly, as if he were afraid she would shatter, he leaned in and placed a kiss on her scar. He held it there for a long moment and the courier felt tears prick her eyes for the second time in weeks. 

He drew back and gently turned her around before she could see his expression, drawing her against his chest.

"Sleep."

And as programmed to follow his command, she did, his lips still burning on her skin.

 

* * *

 

Boone watched as the courier tossed and turned next to him, panting in her sleep. Sweat had dampened her brow and her fists held the sheets tightly beneath her; the nightmares weren't uncommon, but he had hoped the liquor would ease her mind for the night.

He'd been wrong.

It was barely past midnight and she was already thrashing like a wildcat. He sighed. Easing over, he pressed a gentle hand on her sun browned tummy, increasing the pressure until she settled. Hawkins let out a soft sigh and relaxed, fists releasing the sheets. Boone stroked her soft skin steadily, circles and curlicues until he felt himself being hypnotically sent to sleep.

His head hit the pillow beside hers, hand splayed across her stomach and it felt so right for a moment, so content-

_Carla._

Nausea hit him like a freight train and he reared back violently.

His hand tingled from the memory of her softness. 

_You can't do this. It's not fair to her, you're a fractured mess, not even whole enough to keep her safe from those Legion pricks._

Craig Boone was not a man that gave in to weakness, but watching Hawkins sleep, shirt rucked up past her belly and lips parted softly...

_You're fucked._

Lying back down a safe distance away, he contented himself to watch her dream, peacefully this time, heart heavy in his throat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello....whoops. Short update after like, years. Sorry bout that. But I've got the bug again so maybe semi regular updates?


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